


Ten Steps

by thallas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23917777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thallas/pseuds/thallas
Summary: Based off of “(Don’t) Open Your Eyes”Summary: A home intrusion by The Winter Soldier that doesn’t end so well for you.Warnings: non-con, forced oral (male), necrophilia (if you squint), creepy Bucky, home invasion, arson, threats, shooting, gore pretty much, this is pretty dark ngl.Word Count: ~4.5k
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, The Winter Soldier/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	1. Ten Steps

It’s getting late. Your eyelids have begun to feel heavy, sleepiness starting to overwhelm you. You turn off your lamp on the nightstand next to your bed, convincing yourself that you need to sleep. You set aside the book you were reading and look out your window. 

The process of falling asleep is a struggle against noise for you, it’s always too loud; barking dogs, police sirens… even your own intrusive thoughts. But tonight is different, not even the turning gears of your own brain are producing much sound. Tonight is just oddly… quiet. Quiet. Too quiet. 

You shift in your bed, pulling the covers more towards one side. You feel restless. Your sight veers towards the hallway outside your open door. The distance between your room and the opposite wall is only ten steps long. You’d know, since you’ve made a habit of counting them every time you go out. 

One, two, three… absentmindedly, but always. You don’t know why, you just do. Maybe you just like being aware of your surroundings, to the smallest details. But tonight is different. The hallway looks like it stretches into nothingness, like the throat of a gargantuan beast.

Logical thinking cries that it’s just your imagination. 

There can’t be anything wrong or different about it. It’s just a hallway. But… you don’t want to look at it. So, you take a deep breath… and close your eyes. Behind your eyes is just pure darkness. It’s dark and desolate. 

You start to recall the image of your room, naming off things to help you sleep. In your room… there’s a bed in the middle of the opposite wall of the door. You picture it perfectly. In your room… there’ s wardrobe. The white outline and details of the wardrobe paints itself on the opposite wall of the bed. In your room… there’s pictures framed on your wall to the left of you, near the door. 

Your room is a part of yourself. Everything you’ve ever created, imagined or done, has stained the walls, painted the colors of your imagination. It’s a world you know like the back of your hand. Were someone to blindfold you and ask you to find your way around, you’d do so without the slightest difficulty.

As long as nothing changes, having your eyes closed makes no difference. In this room, you can always find what you want to find. Literally and spiritually. Because in this room… you know how everything looks. 

You remember you need to wake up early tomorrow, so you should really try to sleep. Your eyes flutter, while still remaining shut. You sigh, almost blocking out a noise you hear, similar to a thud. You keep your eyes closed as your blood runs cold. No, it couldn’t be. Another one resounds. Then silence, then another. 

What is that sound? You ask yourself, fully knowing well what it is. Another one. Your mind now fully processes the noise. Are those… footsteps? Another one. Another one. Another one. No… that’s impossible. It must be your imagination. Another one. But it’s getting closer. The footsteps are loud like thuds, they sound like they belong to a man wearing work boots. Fear has coursed its way into your chest. You did not open your eyes. You will not. Another footstep. And closer. Another. And closer. Your breath catches and you wait… they are gone. The breath your holding silently leaves your body. Right… there’s no way someone could be here. 

You wish that was the case. You felt them, their presence. It lasted for a moment before they shuffled down and leaned against your covers, kneeling over you. You keep your eyes closed, fearful of what you should see if you do open them. 

“Hey,” The person whispers, “Open… your eyes.”

You don’t open your eyes. 

“Open your eyes.” He repeats, lowly. You don’t listen to the command, instead feign sleep. 

“Look… at me.” He pleads, he sounds desperate, yet cold. You try your hardest to ignore the voice. It had to be your imagination, right?

“Why won’t you look at me?” The voice grows impatient, yet stays quiet, whispering. “Where are your manners? If a stranger asks for help, is it right to ignore them? Is that how it is?”

You can feel them breathing over your ear. It’s cold. This is not your imagination, this is very, very real. Your eyes stay closed out of shock and fear. You swear you locked your door before you went to bed. You physically were incapable of opening your eyes right now. 

“I will share a secret with you.” He says dropping his lips to the shell of your ear, “I don’t know who I am. I can’t even tell you how I look. I don’t know if my face is ugly. I don’t know how my eyes look. I don’t even know if I’m really here. That is why I need you to open your eyes. So you can tell me how I look.” 

You resist opening your eyes. Now, you were curious. Too curious for your own good. 

“You can tell me.” You feel his hand set down on your stomach, “Then, you won’t find me anywhere… and soon you will forget. Like a faded dream.” 

Your heartbeat fastens as his hand runs its way up your arm and then back down again.

He chuckles into your ear, “I know you’re not asleep. You listen with those tiny ears of yours. They look so fragile.”

He continues, “Like I could almost grab them…”

You feel a hand come up to your ear and caress it.

“Put my fingers around them…”

You feel his fingers tighten around your ear.

“And tear them off.” 

There’s a pause and you can practically hear the gears in his head turning.

“If I do, will you scream? Will I hear your voice?”

You feel him pull a little bit and you gasp. You jolt up, and open your eyes. You scan your room. There’s nobody here. You gulp and lay back down, trying to catch your breath. You close your eyes again.

“It was a joke,” he whispers, you feel his teeth gently bite your ear, “I’m joking. Don’t be scared.”

“Hey… When our gazes finally meet, what will you find?” You feel his grin against your ear. You finally build up the courage to open your eyes again. 

The man holds you down as you do, now looking into your eyes. There’s charcoal outlining them. This man scares you. 

“How do you think my eyes look?” he asks, his eyes flicking over your face. A beat of silence, “Answer me.”

You look deeply into his eyes. Your fear reflects in them. His steely blue eyes are like waves in the ocean on a stormy day. They look dangerous, daring… broken. 

You part your lips as tears start to fill your eyes, “Broken.”

“They look… broken?” His stare seems to look directly into your soul, “That may be so. I’m always straining my sight, to stare at what’s in front of me. Searching for that one, precious thing. It’s what drives me to look inside places, such as this, not as an order, as a distraction. To find something I cannot kill. But sometimes I strain so hard, I lose sight of what I want. Then I kill. Making a cracking sound as they go. In my desperation, I always attempt to piece myself back together. But you can never put back together something you haven’t seen. I kneel and search for the missing fragments of myself… but they are never there.”

His eyes leave yours, “Maybe… Maybe the wind takes them somewhere out of my reach. And that, makes me sad and… and angry. So, so angry. I can never get back certain pieces of myself, I’m just a weapon used against others. That always makes me think, if I don’t get to have those pieces of myself, why do others get to keep them? I want to take it away from them.” 

You hear a cracking sound; it came from his shoulder. You try to look down to see the rest of him but he stops you. 

“No.” He says, making you jerk your head up. “Every little piece that remains is harder, furiously, wallowing in sorrow. I pray to whatever is listening to give back what’s mine. To not make me lose more than I’ve already lost. I don’t want to waste my time, and search for more than I care for. Yet no one delivers. No one is listening. And so, I weep invisible tears, until I can feel the sorrow no more. Letting my anger take over.” 

He lifts himself up and you finally see what you were dreading to see. Something that makes him stronger than he already is. More intimidating. A metal arm. 

“Please…” You whimper quietly. 

“Have you ever strained yourself so hard to see what you want to see… that you end up blinding yourself to all?” 

He places his metal hand around your throat. His eyes were emotionless, yet so full of emotion. You stay silent. 

“Have you?”

The tears creep down your cheeks slowly, “No.”

The man’s face twists into a sneer. “You’re lying.” 

His eyes meet yours and he tightens his grip around your neck. You know it’s a warning. His eyes are dark now. His aura menacing. _Tell the truth._ Something whispers in your head. 

“Yes! Yes, I have,” You choke out through a sob, “Just please…”

The man releases his hold on you. 

“I had someone tell me long ago they looked empty. They said that the soul was holy. Beautiful. Every person has one. Both the good and the evil. But that person said that I was the exception. That something like me… couldn’t possibly own something so holy. So… bright. So beautiful.” He leaned over you, “They looked inside of me, took a deep breath and announced their conclusion with great fatigue. Their eyes, eyes that could see it all, couldn’t find anything in there. I’m sure that if you cut me apart, not even blood would flow out. Even if I’ve felt it sometimes, crawling through my veins. Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen myself before. Because I’m empty.”

He pauses, “But isn’t that something to be grateful for?”

“I can’t remember who was the first to recite those words to me. Nor the second. Nor the third. Nor the several other who came after them. The only I remember is that they looked as empty as I looked to them.” His hand moved to grip your chin, forcing his stare deeper into your soul. 

“But you don’t look empty. Not yet. Have you ever felt so empty, so devoid of what makes everyone special that you’ve embraced the void as your own?”

“No.” You whisper, closing your eyes, wishing this man away. 

“Even though I can’t see them, your eyes are so pretty. I can imagine them behind their veil of flesh. Round like pearls. Shiny like jewels. So, so pretty.” A breath of cold air caresses your eyelashes. “It’s fine, we still have time. The night is still… and silent.”

You can feel him breathing you in. He caresses your cheek, “People are good at closing their doors. A door is a barrier to keep the bad out. The bad can be anything. A bad person, a bad smell, and sometimes… me.”

Your mouth goes dry. 

“Every night, I run through the shadows on the streets. I’m careful, so as not to be caught by the light. But sometimes… just sometimes… an urge swells inside of me. To be seen.” His hand flows down your body, stopping at your outer thigh, then moving inward. His face rests in the crook of your neck now, his breathing is deep. He kisses your neck gently. 

You feel paralyzed, as if you can’t move no matter what happens. He moves back the covers, his other hand creeping up your shirt, and you panic, “Stop.”

He ignores you, pushing more up to cup your breast. As if suddenly out of your trance, you jerk up, eyes wide open as you slide onto the floor to get out from underneath him. Your foot hits something as you come down and you gasp. It’s a gun. A gun that’s surely killed many. You look around. A mask is set on top of the book you were reading earlier. Then, your eyes meet his. They burn bright with rage. 

He moves to stand over you. You bring your leg up, kicking his stomach. He’s firm and barely moves. You scramble off of the ground, running into the hallway. Ten steps. You count once you hear him move. He’s not running after you. He’s walking. Because he knows. 

“You know, all of them run.” He announces, “But none of them make it.” 

He grabs the gun and listens. You stopped running, of course, now you were hiding. The man chuckles darkly, he knows this place better than you do at this point. He knows where you are already, and you know that he knows. You quietly sob to yourself inside of the hidden cabinet. You were just waiting for the inevitable now. 

The man walks into the hallway, “I’ll give you the chance to come out right now. If you don’t, I’ll make this more painful than it has to be. If you do, I won’t.” 

You stayed hidden, now holding your breath. You prayed he wouldn’t find you. You heard him stalk down the hallway into your bathroom. It was dark, but light enough to see everything. Everything went silent. You listened and counted to thirty. Was he gone? 

You lowered your head trying to listen, until a metal hand aggressively punched through the wall. You screamed as it missed punching your face by mere inches. 

“No!” You screamed, “Please stop! Don’t!” 

You shuffled through your hiding spot as his punches kept coming closer and closer. He ripped off the hidden door, hurling it backwards. It hit the mirror and shattered it. You crawled to a new spot, until a blow hit your ribcage. You cried out in pain as the metal made harsh, fast contact with your flesh and bones. You stopped and laid down in the cubby, curling into a ball to protect yourself. 

His metal hand jerked out and grabbed your hair, pulling you down and out of the cubby. Your body hit the hard floor, pain jolting through you from coming down in such a way from that height and landing on glass shards. You screamed as some of your hair entangled itself in the blades of metal. The butt of the rifle came down on your face, right in-between your eyebrows. Your head jerked back and your face hit the ground. 

You barely made out the words from your dry and cracked lips, “W-who are you?”

The man laughed darkly, “The Winter Soldier.” 

The Winter Soldier stepped back from your body, bringing his rifle up. You were still, eyes closed. He took aim and pulled the trigger twice. His dark eyes followed the shots, listening to your screams of agony. He shot you in your kneecaps, fully incapacitating you, forever maybe. He knew where to shoot, avoiding the femoral artery so you wouldn’t bleed out. It shattered your joints connecting your femur to your shin. But you probably wouldn’t have to worry about that. The pain was excruciating. This was the worst thing you’ve ever felt. 

You could try and crawl or drag yourself, but it wouldn’t work. The white, hot burning pain coursed straight through your legs into your head. Everything hurt and your head was pounding. You thought for sure that sleep would consume you, but it never did. You could feel the blood seeping out onto the floor, you didn’t have the heart to look down and see the damage done. The Winter Soldier grabbed your hair and you grabbed onto his wrist, trying to lessen the aching of your head by pulling yourself up.

He dragged you out of the bathroom and down the hallway. All you could do was watch as the blood stained the floors you were being dragged on. You screamed as he threw you onto the floor right in before of your front door. You laid on your stomach and sobbed. 

“Go on. Try to leave.” He urged, angrily. He kicked your side, and you heard a crack. It had to be your ribs. 

You cried, reaching out for the door, knowing it would be useless. You couldn’t stand. You couldn’t run, let alone walk. The Winter Soldier stomped his foot on your outstretched arm, unlatching his knife and driving it through your hand and into the ground below you. 

His raspy voice cut through your agonized scream, “You should’ve gone through the front door.” 

Your tears were never-ending as you laid limp on the hardwood flooring in front of your door. 

_Why didn’t you lock your door?_

The Winter Soldier stepped off of your wrist, shifting to grab your hips. He violently ripped down your shorts, taking your panties with them. He pulled them from your legs, causing more pain to burn through them. You winced in pain, “You should’ve come out when I offered you the chance to. You’re real fuckin’ stupid for ignoring that offer.”

His hands groped your ass, filling them perfectly. He landed a slap on it, jolting you. He stood, placing his foot on your wrist again, this time not to cause pain, but to keep you still. He grabbed the handle of the knife, ripping it out. You shrieked in pain and your hand curled as you held it against yourself. 

He nudged you with his foot, urging you to flip over. When you didn’t, he kicked the same spot he did before. You wheezed, turning over, trying to breathe. He looked over your body, seeing bruises already forming and blood dripping from your head, hand, and knees. He pulled up your shirt, pulling it off of your arms. He threw it to the side, taking the knife and straddling your hips. He reached over, holding your hand in the same spot, then with such precision, sliding the knife through the same spot and back into the ground. Your core flexed harshly, your body trying to let you react. All you could do was whimper. 

The Winter Soldier moved heavily to straddle your chest, unbuckling his belt. He pulled down his pant and boxers just enough to get his cock out. He gripped your chin, his steely eyes connecting with your watery ones. You knew the only thing keeping you alive at this point was your adrenaline pumping. Your arm hurt from being pinned up at the hand by a knife, placed in such an awkward position that you couldn’t move to fix, even if you wanted to. 

His thumb flexed against your chin, letting your mouth fall open. He let the tip of his cock trace your lips before pushing it into your mouth. He pushed forward more, letting his thick cock stuff your mouth until it hit the back of your throat. He pulled back and then pushed back further, entering your throat. You tensed and gagged, and he chuckled, “Easy there, tiger.” 

He started thrusting, grabbing your head as a stabilizer. You untensed which caused your mouth to lock, your teeth lightly grazing him. He groaned, pulling out. He slapped your cheek harshly.

“Hey!” He hissed, “If I feel teeth again, I’m going to fuck your throat until you fucking throw up, got it?”

Your head rolled to the side and he slapped you again. 

“Understand?” 

You nodded incoherently. He pushed himself back into your mouth, pushing against your gag reflex every time. You endlessly gagged, until he pushed in as much as he could and just stopped there. Your eyes watered, and your lungs begged for oxygen. Your good hand came up, pushing against his hips as you began to panic. You could feel your chest start to convulse. The spit gathered in your mouth started leaking down your throat. He grabbed your hand and pinned it near your head, still keeping his cock forced down your throat with the same aggression. Your shoulders jerked and you ran out of air. You tested your luck and brought your teeth down on him. He pulled out of your mouth, and you coughed, trying to breathe in around the spit you had to swallow. 

“You little fucking cunt!” The Winter Soldier roared as his metal fist met your cheek. You let your head circle around, white consuming your vision. You blinked, your head spinning. 

The Winter Soldier grabbed your jaw, pushing himself into your mouth again and thrusting fast and hard. He grabbed your hair with his other hand, jerking your head up and down. His dark hair fell down in front of his face, grunting as he fucked your face. Your throat and jaw hurt being stretched so wide for so long. 

“You fucking regret that, bitch? Huh?” His thrusts grew rougher. 

Your eyes widened as he thrust particularly hard against your gag reflex. You shove against his hip and he takes the message and removed himself from your mouth. You roll to the side, throwing up. You cough until you go red in the face and gulp. He grabs your hair, forcing you to look into his eyes, “You enjoy that?” 

He lets your head drop, your tired eyes closing. 

“Ah, ah. No.” He rolls you back over, slapping your cheek. “We’re not done.”

He shifts off of you, backing down in between your legs. He brings his fingers to your slit, rubbing up and down, then forcing a finger into your tight entrance. 

“Are you a virgin?” He asks, forcing another finger into you. You whimper and he chuckles. That was enough of an answer for him. 

He pulls his fingers out of you and brings them up to his mouth, letting it close around them. He lets his saliva coat them, rubbing your folds with them. 

“You’re gonna wish you were wetter than this.” 

The Winter Soldier grabs your hip, lifting you to meet with his cock. He lined himself up, shifting to be in the right position. He tried pushing inside of you slowly, finding resistance against his cock. He grits his teeth pushing harder until he slides in nicely and the tip of his cock hits your cervix. You cry out, your voice ragged. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He doesn’t waste any time and pulls back, starting to thrust inside of you. 

He cups your breast in one hand, the other hand remaining on your hip. 

“P-please,” You sob, “Stop, I-it hurts!” 

“Shut up.” His hand moves to grip your throat, applying pressure. 

The world of pain you’re in is indescribable. This continues for what seems like hours, but really, is only a few minutes. Just when you think you’re feeling the pain start to go away, he stops. He pulls out of you, looking down at his cock, there’s blood. He smirks. 

You close your eyes in a grimace. He lets go of you, and you gasp when he retrieves his knife. It was a painful relief. He grabs your hips, turning you over. He puts one hand over the other now. 

“Are you ready, little bitch?” The Winter Soldier leans over you, brandishing the knife. 

“N-no, please don’t-” your words blend into a horrifying scream, the knife digging through both of your hands with a fast jab. 

Leaning back, you feel him pull up on your hips, causing a groan of protest to come out of you. How does he expect you to be on your knees when he blew them out with his rifle? He pushes into you roughly, grabbing your hair, “Fuck, you feel so good.”

He pulls it with every thrust, you moaning in pain. The fabrics of his pants rubs against you and you feel the skin being attacked start to get raw. You try to shift your hips away from him. 

He smacks your ass, “Don’t fucking move! Just lay there and take it, you stupid cunt!”

He lets go of your hair, trailing his metal fingers down your throat, then back up and into your mouth.

“Suck.” He commanded. 

You knew biting his fingers would be of no help to you. Maybe that’s why he used his metal ones. 

“W-why are you d-doing this?” You rasp out, once he removes his fingers. 

It’s silent before he speaks, “I’m ordered to.”

With that, he shoves two of his fingers in your ass and you cry out at the unwanted stretch. 

“No! No! Please take them out!”

The man groans, “That’s right, beg. Beg me.”

“Please, please take them out, I can’t take it, it hurts!” You cry and beg him. He thrusts his fingers in and out, curling them to hit places where no one’s ever touched you. 

“Pl-lease,” You sobbed. 

He pulls his fingers out of your ass, wrapping his metal hand around your throat. You feel his hips stutter, and you know that he’s close. He grabs the knife, pulling it out and throwing it to the side. He turns you so he can see your face. 

He keeps his grip on your throat firm and pushes your head into the ground. His arm whirrs with how much pressure he’s putting. You close your eyes; they feel like they’re going to burst out of your head. 

“Open those pretty eyes.” He growls next to your ear. 

As much as you wish you could push him off in this moment, there’s no way you could. Not even before your injuries. You feel the burning everywhere. Not just your lungs, not just your throat. You can feel the burning in your face, your eyes, everywhere. You watch everything flash before you, all of your memories, all the good and all the bad. You open your eyes, for the last time. He keeps thrusting. Even as the light fades from your eyes, he keeps thrusting, he still keeps his hand tightened around your throat, just to make sure. Once the life fades from your eyes is when he stops, cumming inside of you. The last warmth you’ll ever feel. 

The Winter Soldier releases your throat, gently pulling your body off of his. You just slump down, a mix of blood and cum spill out from you. He picks up your panties, wiping himself off with them. He puts his cock in its rightful place, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt. The man stands, retrieving his knife, also wiping it off on your panties. 

He lets the fabric fall to the floor beside you. Your dull eyes stare up at him. 

He walks down the hallway towards your room. Only ten steps. He grabs his mask and the book underneath it. He leaves nothing behind. 

He only grabs the matches from his tactical belt, sets the book ablaze and puts it underneath the curtain. He walks outside, watching as the inside of the house burns with color, waiting for the whole house to turn the same color. 

Then he was gone, like a ghost in the wind. 


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Bucky visits your grave after leaving behind the Winter Soldier.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of: non-con, forced oral (male), creepy Bucky, home invasion, arson, threats, shooting, gore.
> 
> I don’t know if I could quite call this angst, but it has that feeling to it.
> 
> Word Count: ~1.2k

Bucky Barnes was a changed man after Steve found him. Steve helped him find himself again. But that could never get rid of the memories. The things Bucky had seen. Had caused. He could remember every person. Every single one. But there was one who really stuck with him. (Y/n) (L/n). The one he beat, raped, and murdered. The only one he truly beat and raped to watch suffer. 

To him it was a nightmare. Watching himself do that to her. His self-conscience was beating on him the whole time, wishing he could stop himself. It was like watching someone you just couldn’t stop. Bucky was so drowned in his thoughts; he didn’t even realize Steve walked in. 

“Hey, Buck.” He greeted, but frowned once he saw the broken look on his friend’s face. “Are you all right?” 

Bucky looked up at Steve with sadness in his eyes, “No man. I’m not. I-I…” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Steve said worriedly, “I don’t want to stress you out.”

“No.” Bucky says. “No… I really want to talk about it. But it’s terrible. I don’t want you to see me differently. When I was different.” 

“Bucky, none of that matters anymore. You’re not him.” Steve shook his head trying to console his friend. 

“But I was.” His voice cracked. “You have no idea what I did to her, Steve.” 

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, “Who, Buck? Who is she?” 

“Fuck, Steve, it was so bad. She was the worst I had been assigned. She suffered so much because of me.” His voice grew cold, “So much.”

“Who is she, Buck?” His voice was soft compared to Bucky’s. He says your name so softly, Steve almost didn’t hear him. 

“She was pretty. And innocent. I took that from her. I took everything from her.” 

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

Bucky stiffened then blurted out, “I raped her.”

He looked at Steve, “I raped her. And beat her. And killed her.” 

Steve was silently thinking, “Buck, that wasn’t you.”

“But it was me. I remember every little thing I did to her. Everything.” Bucky explained. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“She was pretty. Really pretty.” Bucky started, “I was assigned her and I was told to be discreet. I watched her for almost a week. She had a good habit of locking her door. Until one night she didn’t. That’s when I decided to strike. I walked down to her bedroom and I knew she heard me. God, it’s like a horror story.” 

Bucky covered his face, “I was such a creep. I told her ways I could hurt her, how vulnerable she looked. She started crying. She was so scared. When I started to touch her, she kicked me and tried to run and hide.”

Steve could tell Bucky was traumatized by this, he couldn’t handle the look on Bucky’s face, he just looked so… sad. 

“I told her about the other people. About how they all ran, but none of them made it out alive.”

Bucky stopped and sighed. “I wish I didn’t know where she hid, Steve. I really wish I could’ve left, and honestly not know where she was. She could’ve gotten away then. Gotten help.” 

Steve nodded and put his hand on Buck’s shoulder, “She hid in a hidden compartment in her bathroom down the hall. I could hear her heart beating so fast. Of course, I found her. I punched through the wall, one of them actually landed on her. I definitely broke a rib. I hit her with the butt of my gun next, right in between her eyebrows. I’m surprised it didn’t knock her out.”

He took a deep breath, “I shot her in both of her kneecaps, so she couldn’t get away. Her screams were absolutely agonizing, they fucking haunt me, Steve. They’ll never leave my mind. I grabbed her hair, and I dragged her to her front door, I told her to get up and leave. To try and run. I kicked her in the ribs, the crack that came from it was sickening. But she tried. She reached out for the door, but I stomped on her wrist and I drove my knife into the ground through her hand. Then I took off all of her clothes, and flipped her over, taking the knife out and the sliding it back in.”

Steve winces at the thought of that happening to him. “Then I- I forced myself into her mouth, I felt her teeth, so I warned her not to do it again, otherwise I would fuck her throat so hard that she throws up. But I didn’t really give her the choice. I fucked her throat until she threw up. Then I raped her. She was begging me to stop. I was her first time, you know. I took her virginity. I was so rough with her, I hurt her. She bled a lot. All I did was taunt her during it too. I fingered her ass after making her suck on my fingers. Then, I choked her to death as I came in her.”

“Bucky, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Steve gave his friend a hug. 

Bucky felt himself tearing up as his face landed into Steve’s shoulder and he muttered, “Then I burnt her house down.” 

“It’s okay. Do you want to go see her, maybe?” Steve asked. 

“Yeah.” He muttered. 

That day, Steve and Bucky went to the graveyard you were buried at. Steve started to get out of the car, but Bucky stopped him. “Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?” 

Bucky wringed his hands together, “Can you just stay in the car? Please? I just… I want this to be a personal moment. Just me and her.”

“Of course.” Steve gave him an encouraging smile. 

Bucky heaved a breath as he got out of the car. The sky was gray, he noticed, walking out and searching through the names. Bucky was uncertain that he actually wanted to go to your grave. 

When he found the grave with your information on it, it felt surreal. He couldn’t believe that this was you. He knelt down. 

It’s okay, he thought more to you than himself, I’m not gonna hurt anyone anymore. 

Bucky reached out to touch the smoothed stone. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually said, “I wanted you to know it wasn’t me.”

Bucky knew you were listening. That you could hear him.

“All I felt watching myself do that to you, was disgust. I wanted to stop. I really did. But Hydra controlled me.” He explained himself, “I can never forgive myself for what I did to you.”

Bucky felt a tear drip down his face and he smiles sadly, “I never wanted it to end like this for anyone, but I specifically remember you. I could never forget. And I hope you can forgive me, knowing it wasn’t my choice. Maybe in a different life we could’ve been together. We could’ve met somewhere cute, we could’ve gotten married, we could’ve had kids. Sometimes I think about how that could be in a different universe.”

Bucky could’ve sworn he felt a hand on his shoulder and he felt like there was a weight lifted off his chest. He genuinely felt better. “I hope you don’t mind, but I want to visit you every so often. I’ll bring you new flowers, too.”

Bucky sighed contentedly, “Well, I’ll just leave these here. I’ll be back.” Bucky gently set the flowers down in front of your tombstone. 

He knew you heard and he knew you were okay.


End file.
